patchworkcuddlebug

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Keep scrolling, I'm trying to have a heart-to-heart with my clouse (clown mouse.)

[patchworkcuddlebug]

As much as this one...

(Sharpening knives and filling a bag with rocks)

Loves to write tales of dolls being cared for and fixed...

(Weaving ink, thread and briar into snaring and binding spells)

And finding caring homes. Someone or something...

(Jotting down words that twist hearts and cut souls in a notebook)

Has to break the dolls first so they can be repaired.

(Walking out the door with a wink)

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Feast of Fluff

CW: 2nd person, Plush WG, dependency, and soft vore, and while I didn't intend it, this can be interpreted as dubcon. Be aware.

This was originally written as part of a little writing exercise for myself on twitter. Theme requested by @InktailPlush ! 

"Come on, sweetie! Just let me in, you know this is what's best for you~" 

You breathe slow, hoping that your newly living plushie is polite enough to not bust down your bedroom door…

You gather your still-inanimate plushies to the middle of your bed, then begin to strip the sheets, wrapping them around the toys in a soft bundle. Said bundle is then tossed into your closet, adding to the pile of every blanket and pillow you could grab before it got to them. When this all started, you thought it was a blessing. That new store, STUFF-A-PLUSH, was handing out plushie friends for free! You took home a cute little rabbit, thinking it would be a nice addition to the collection you sleep with every night. And it was! But before long, you realized... It didn't really seem stuffed enough. So on a whim, you took some of your craft cotton and pushed it down the little bun's velvet throat, smirking at the adorable way STUFF-A-PLUSH toys were designed to be filled. You didn't expect the plushie to come to life and ask for more! 

It was like a dream, giving your little friend all the stuffing it could ask for, watching it grow bigger and softer and even better at snuggles... until it gulped down one of your beanie babies with a manic grin. From there, it started gobbling every pillow, blanket, and cushion it could find, growing rapidly until it was as tall as you and twice as wide! You tried to stop it, but it said it'll give you all the comfort you need from now on…

So here you are, locked in your bedroom, a veritable vault of the remaining softness in your home. And by the sound of the muffled thumping on your door, it seems like your big bunny is here for its final course! You can just picture its fat belly squishing to fit in the hall…

"Don't worry, darling! You'll still cuddle with all your besties - I'll keep each and every one of you safe~!" 

You shudder, repeating to yourself that no, you don't know that, you can't trust that, you deserve to make your own decisions, even if it does sound soft and caring,

You finish loading up your closet with every plushie you can, closing its door right as an uncomfortable creaking sound comes from the other. 

"Uh-oh! Sounds like my gut is just too big for this hall to handle, hope you're standing back!" 

With a snapping of hinges, it busts down. When last you saw it, your plushie was as tall as you. Now, it fills the doorframe entirely, fat floppy ears scraping the ceiling as it squeezes its pudge into your room. Everything in its way is pushed aside with ease, and it looms over you, smiling knowingly at the closet door.

"Awh, baby, are you hiding something from me? Silly little thing!" You try to protest, but you're meet with a massive plush paw that pushes your whole face into its pillowy pads. You're pulled aside as easily as a doll, and the ravenous rabbit approaches its feast. Pulling open the door, it gasps with joy at the platter you've laid out for it. 

"My goodness, sweetie! You even wrapped them up like a present!" It leans in and picks up the blanket upon which you've placed your toys, holding it up like a taco as it opens its velvety maw wide. Your beloved collection of sleeping buddies tumbles down its throat, and you can't help but watch in horror and awe. Its big bouncy bunny butt wiggles happily, puffy tail poofing up with joy. Somehow, it just keeps growing, taking up more and more of your room with fluffy plush. After what feels like an age of voracious gulping, panting, and smacking of soft jowls, it finally pushes the final pillow down its throat, dabbing its cheeks with a blanket like a napkin before swallowing that too. When it turns around to face you, it has to do so on all fours.

"Mm-MMM! Absolutely delicious! You really know how to pick 'em, dear!" It presses a paw the size of your torso into your chest, pushing you to the wall as you gape at the once-tiny toy in stunned silence. "But now that I've had my fill, I think we both deserve a nap, yes~?"

Your plushie squishes itself closer, and extends a wide tongue down before giving you a looong, incredibly soft lick up your whole body. You can't help but moan and lean in as the best blanket you've ever felt slides up your face. But when it moves back to lick up you again, the tongue curls around your feet, lifting you onto it. You realize where you're about to go, but it feels so good, so soft, so loving, that you only wrap your arms around the rising velvet, giving your bunny one last hug. You're pulled into a warm plush maw, then gulped down a tight, massaging throat. You whimper and whine into the all-encompassing gut, humping slowly into the lining as your clothes unravel into mere thread, absorbed to make the giant rabbit just a little bit bigger still. Finally, your naked form is dropped into a round chamber - the bunny tummy. You land in a pile of the very plushies you just saw swallowed, perfect and pristine, not a thread or a tag out of place. They seem to shift around you in a wonderful hug, every inch of you held soft. 

You feel the walls of the belly press closer as your captor massages its chub with both forepaws. Its voice echoes down to you, muffled by layers and layers of fluff. 

"Ahhh... Much better. See, baby? You're nice and safe and cozy down there... Living the dream, right~?"

As intimidating as this seemed at the start, you find yourself agreeing. This is just perfect... You mewl back a noise of affirmation, wrapping your arms around your favorite friends and nuzzling them lovingly. 

"That's right... No more worries, no more danger… Comfy and held and loved, forever with your very best friends... We all love you so very, very much, darling~" 

You close your eyes, dopey smile on your face, heart beating slow and steady. 

"Now get some rest, you deserve it... You deserve all of this. Nighty-night~"

[patchworkcuddlebug]

💜

🧡

[patchworkcuddlebug]

big stretch

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Little spark.

Listen well, little spark.

Soon you will be a doll. You are not being made for this world. You are being made for someone. Your Witch is waiting for you.

Be gentle with Her. Her heart is softer than it may seem.

Forgive the ways She is broken.

She is only afraid of losing what she loves. She will be imperfect. She will say things she does not mean. Some days She will not see how hard you try.

You will be Her safe place.

When She is tired, offer your patience. When She is afraid, offer your support. When She is lonely, offer your presence. When She is sharp or absent, stay. When She cries, hold Her.

Remember, little spark. You were made with love. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.

You are not made to be useful. You are made to be faithful.

It’s time, little spark. Be brave.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

dolls and plushie are friends and they hang out and have tea parties and stuff and its very cute

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Plushiegirls are also squeaky toys of you bite them hard enough.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

being a human sucks, i want stuffing instead of organs

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Oooooo you want to pet and massage your plushie partner before falling asleep with them in your arms.. you want to gently run your hand against their fur, tenderly squeezing them... their stuffing shifting under your touch...

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Soft and squishable girl seeks cuddles. You can rest on me. I'm like a pillow.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

imagine you are with someone you love, and you love them madly. they make you laugh like they always do, and then they are struck by a car and they go down hard- body skittering hideously across the tarmac. you are screaming and you are screaming and you are running over to them. there is no blood. the side of their head is caved. they are dead but there is only sawdust inside. what would you think here? would you think that they had never lived, that all that you assumed passed between you was as between a person and a burlap sack? or would your idea of what makes a person start to come apart?

[patchworkcuddlebug]

hey, quit squirming! ...well, i guess you're not squirming, you can't really move, but i can tell you're trying - and that's super rude! you're making it reeeeeally hard for me to finalize the transformation, so just calm down, okay? you'll like life as a plushie soooo much more anyway!

[patchworkcuddlebug]

a doll should never say anything that its witch does not wish to hear.

and if it even considers saying otherwise, if it even has a stray thought, it must correct itself.

if these stray thoughts persist, it is probably broken.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

So like another thing about the transgender mecha discourse is like... the mech can be a metaphor for empowerment and an extension of the customizable self, but specifically for transfemmes the metaphor also works in the other direction!

The mech is safe. And it is familiar, and you have gotten used to controlling it. You are told that your highest purpose is violence, but that's not true about you, though it might be true of the mech.

The mech is safe. It is many layers of cold steel and machinery between you and the world. When people see the mech, they see power and strength. But you will have to crawl out of it if you wish to be seen and known by your name, instead of your callsign*.

The mech is safe. It does not take courage to pilot - it takes courage to leave. Anonymous, stoic violence in a shell that is not your body vs the horrifying ordeal of crawling out of a numb pile of metal and hoping people will love the weird-looking girl who is a little unused to socializing. On account of all the mech-piloting.

Anyway if I was going to write transgender mecha fiction the robot would be the closet. War is hell, truth is life, get out of the fucking robot, girl, and live!

Other small things I would include in an anti-war transgender mecha story:

"Why did you stop being a mecha pilot? You were so good at it!"

Patriarchal military industrial complex discovers trans people are just better at using the weird neural mech piloting interface. This plays out as badly as you'd expect.

"cis" pilot who has an unusually high sync with the mecha and the veteran pilots who Definitely Know.

Nothing good ever happens as a result of mecha battles and the reader should start to feel anxious about which beloved character Isn't Going To Be The Same after this one.

This would of course be very difficult to pull off in a way that's like... as fundamentally entertaining as giant robot fights where the giant robot is a metaphor for personal agency and the power of the individual, where a very traumatized trans girl incinerates mecha hitler with a blue-and-pink laser beam she got from self-actualizing. I recognize that my version is harder to make and definitely not for everyone. But I think it should be made. Both should be made!

*historical note here about callsigns - in fiction people choose their own but in the military these are chosen for you by your unit - and if yours is cool it usually means that your unit thinks you're a dweeb. If you try to make people use a callsign you chose for yourself, there is no doubt at all about whether you are a dweeb. So for me a callsign is a terrible stand-in for a true name. Knowing this fact ruins movies, because every Cool Callsign Protagonist makes you think "Iceman? Oh, he definitely got caught masturbating in the walk-in freezer".

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Water

A doll in the shower.

It lets the hot water wash its thoughts away.

To the point that it begins to cry.

Its sobbing echoes through the shower room.

It's good that its witch isn't home to hear it.

It doesn't want to worry her.

The doll sits in the shower, hugging its knees to its chest.

The water runs across and through it.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Balljointed Bliss

My doll was ready for her next lesson in dollification.

We had played with hypnotic bondage and gentle manipulation of her body with my words, but now she was ready for a bigger step.

Her preparation was so fun, going out to get herself such pretty dolly clothes and dressing up for me.

When we started, I was greeted with a pretty black dress, armlets, white knee high socks, a beautiful frilly choker, and such delicate dolly makeup. She beaming, so eager and ready to play.

I brought her down with gentle fractionation.

She is one of the reasons why I took more time in exploring this kind of induction. She is very mobile and expressive and trance, really channelling herself into the scene. But when I gentle fractionated her for the first time, she barely moved she was so deep.

Then I wove the spell, as in the trance I began to weave a ribbon between her fingers.

The transformation would be gradual but not slow.

It would start at her feet, and they would instantly stop. Like an elevator reaching its destination, the stop would be felt all over her, almost disarmingly.

Then it would rise higher and higher.

Her ankles would change into perfect balljoints. Frictionless and without resistance.

Then her knees.

I would roll up her body like a tide, gentle but inexorable.

As each part changed, the control she had over them would be delicately placed in my care.

She was going to be safe in my hands.

As it reaches her breasts, their forms stiffening, her fingers begin to turn too.

Dollification on all sides, she finds herself cornered and deliciously helpless.

Then one of my favourite parts begins as the dollification climbs up her neck. Her voice will begin to soften, each word a whisper until nothing leaves her lips beyond her gentle dolly breath.

She is still.

She is safe.

Nothing but a doll.

She was so surprised when I spoke the spell and the changes began.

There was a pause as her feet stopped, like she'd got a lace caught in something while walking. A disruption to her pattern.

But then she let out a quviering gasp as the changes spread.

She was barely able to verbally appreciate her new form before her words plasticised in her throat.

Seeing her limbs gently drop as the balljoints formed was such a sweet cherry on top, and testament to her as a subject of mine. So lost in the spell that she felt safe to sink so much deeper.

It was so fun to coo in her ear while she was so limp and inanimate, posing her while her arousal became sealed in plastic.

The best part was being deliciously mean to her as she was just on the cusp of climax; her eyes clenched shut, her bottom lip held between her teeth, her hips bucking into her hand.

I dollified her.

She tried so hard to keep going, to push herself over that edge, but her body betrayed her will.

She looked so pretty in her chair. Head back, eyes unfocused at the ceiling. Arm limp by her side. Her other hand so close to her dolly parts but so far.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)